


Say It Like You Mean It (Seven in One)

by flying_snowmen, karusarchive (cluelesskaru)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fake Dating, Modern AU, previously titled Seven in One
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:37:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4240992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flying_snowmen/pseuds/flying_snowmen, https://archiveofourown.org/users/cluelesskaru/pseuds/karusarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin has to go back to her mother’s home, after two years astray, for her cousin’s wedding. Afraid of confronting her ex-fiancé, whom she dumped after the worse day of her life, she hires ex-felon Bellamy Blake, to pose as her new boyfriend. In the arms of a stranger she found on Craigslist, the surgeon hopes she can survive the long weekend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This story is based on a prompt for a Craigslist casual encounters ad, we took it and did our thing to it, hope you like it!  
> Xx  
> Carol

  **The Reason**

**November 11, 2015**

Her phone starts ringing again for the second time. She could continue to not answer; her mother couldn’t possibly know she’s on break. But her mother will call again in a few hours, leave messages, keep calling until there’s an answer. Clarke Griffin never was one to postpone the pain.

So she answers, “Hello, mother.”

“Clarke!” Abby sounds pleased, but not surprised to get an answer. “Are you coming to your cousin’s wedding?” Mother asks the question in an offhand, nonchalant way. As if she doesn’t really care what her daughter will say.

Clarke sighs into the phone, rubbing her hand across her brow. “Mom, I don’t know if I…”

Abby starts again. “It’s thanksgiving too. Plus, I know you haven’t taken time off in the past couple of years.” Her mom doesn’t beg or plead. Nearly ever. It’s not as if there’s never been a wedding in the family before. This shouldn’t be any different than the last one. “So the hospital won’t try to stop you from leaving. Why can’t you let the other surgeon take over for a while? You know the hospital has many surgeons precisely so that they will not overwork anyone.”

“But I…”

“The Jaha’s are coming.” Mother singsongs. Oh, no… Not _this_ again.

“I’m bringing someone.” Clarke blurts out. Well, that’s one way to get her mother off her back about Wells.

There’s a moment of silence, when Clarke freaks out about what she has just said, and her mother is part triumphant and part confused.

“Who?” There’s a sort of danger in Mrs. Griffin’s voice, and Clarke recoils a little.

“I have a new boyfriend,” She blurts out, without thinking. “I’m sorry I hadn’t told you yet but we just got serious and I didn’t think it was important to mention it before, but you’re going to love him so I guess I’ll see you in two weeks, ok? Love you! Bye!” Clarke ends the call, completely out of breath. She ignores the call from her mother not five seconds later. Clarke can deal with this later. She massages her temples, heading to the Doctor’s Mess. She needs a nap before she’s due for her next shift.

 

 

**The How**

But she can’t sleep.

Clarke Griffin flops back on the bunk bed, hitting her head on the wall. “Jesus, I’m being ridiculous,” she drops her phone on the floor and hears it clatter. “I have officially gone out of my mind.”

The only light in the room is the dim one coming from her phone screen, and the ad she was reading is still there, taunting her. Then the screen blinks off, and Dr. Griffin is in the dark again. But she can still remember perfectly what she was reading:

 

 

 

She looks at the ad until her break is over. She then works through her shift, fixing bones and even a heart, and then her shift ends and Clarke takes her exhaustion home. She still has two weeks until Thanksgiving, she’ll be okay.

 

**Thursday (November 12, 2015)**

Clarke goes through half her day before remembering. And she only remembers after seeing a newlywed couple visiting an elderly man down the palliative care hall. Memories hit her like lightening as she watches the way husband and wife hold hands. She almost phones a man she went out with a couple of times a few months ago, but realizes the question would be too embarrassing.

 

**Friday (November 13, 2015)**

Clarke goes for drinks with Jasper and Monty. They’re all laughing and joking until Jasper’s girlfriend, Maya, calls. She’s come down with the flu, so Jasper leaves within minutes. As she and Monty are finishing off their beers, he mumbles, “Jasper really ought to marry that girl.” Clarke merely nods her agreement, but she crosses off Jasper from her list of “Men Who Can Potentially Be My Date For Thanksgiving”. She eyes Monty’s cute little drunken smile, he would be perfect if her mom didn’t already know he was gay.

 

**Saturday (November 14, 2015)**

A patient asks for her number and she has to stifle a laugh. Is it completely unethical that if it weren’t for the third degree burns on his arm, that would keep him hospitalized for at least another two weeks, she would take a former patient all the way to Palo Alto with her?

(It probably is.)

 

**Sunday (November 15, 2015)**

The priest standing at the altar starts his homily talking about deceit in the modern world. Clarke tries not to let it affect her too much, but then he’s talking commandments and her mind can’t help but wander to “thou shalt honor thy father and mother”. How is she supposed to find a fake date and lie on Thanksgiving to her entire family all to piss off her mother?

 

**Monday (November 16, 2015)**

It’s the first thing she remembers when she wakes up.

It haunts her thoughts again during lunch.

When she looks at the clouds during a fleeting afternoon break, she sees a dragon spitting fire in the sky, somehow it feels like an omen.

 

**Tuesday (November 17, 2015)**

The impending holiday keeps her awake. Scenarios rampaging her mind. How can she lie? But mostly, how could she live through it _without_ lying?

She feels the tension in the pit of her stomach. Of course she shouldn’t be so nervous. It’s just a wedding, it’s just a holiday back home, _she shouldn’t be this nervous._

 

**Wednesday (November 18, 2015)**

Clarke’s spent nearly her entire off day calling all of her contacts. She calls her ex-boyfriends. She even calls her ex-girlfriends, willing to tell her mother some bullshit lie about accidentally saying “boy” instead of “girl”. She gets a lot of dull dial tones. Each time an ex hangs up on her or a friend just sighs and says sorry, she pulls up the Craigslist ad and lets her finger hover over the reply button.

 

**Thursday Again (November 19, 2015)**

She’s a week away from Thanksgiving. It’s officially seven days until she’ll be sitting around the table with (hopefully) a date to her right and her mother to her left, telling everyone why she’s thankful for this year and her family and her job and blah blah blah. Riveting conversations. Whatever the case, she needs to find a date or risk her mother seating **Wells** to her left and trying desperately to get them back together again.

 

**Friday Again (November 20, 2015)**

She can’t take Wells back.

There used to be a photo of him on her nightstand, one that for years she kissed every night before dozing off. She still sees his face sometimes before going to bed, and in those nights, she can’t sleep. Her mother has never understood why she can’t forgive him, and Clarke doesn’t really believe there is anything that will be able to convince the stubborn woman.

 

**Saturday Again (November 21, 2015)**

She’s not okay.

How could she have been silly enough to think things would be okay? Clarke only has 5 days until she has to be back home and still has no boyfriend to take with her.

During those two weeks, she’d gone through every contact in her phone with no luck. So basically, Clarke has been desperate and none of her friends can help. She keeps looking at that ad on her phone, writing a reply but quickly deleting everything once she realizes how utterly ridiculous this whole situation is. Clarke is a friendly person. She’s very beautiful. She can find a guy to go with her to the Thanksgiving wedding, right? But if the last nine days are any proof, she actually can’t.

 Currently, she’s nursing a glass of wine after a particularly brutal shift. (A girl accidentally shot her brother in the arm with a crossbow arrow. Try explaining that to the parents.) Whether it’s the alcohol or her lack of reliable friends or her absolute hatred of this upcoming vacation back home, Clarke goes back to the craigslist ad and writes up a reply. She even has professional grammar and correct spelling, and sends it before changing her mind.

 

> Hi, my cousin is getting married over the Thanksgiving weekend, and I need a date. Particularly, I need someone who will piss off my mother. We can discuss the details later if you decide to help me. We would have to stay the weekend, but you would be fully accommodated. Room, food, and everything. I would like to meet in person at least a day before we leave, which would be the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Please e-mail me back if you’re interested.

 

With that, Clarke has hopefully solved her problem.

 

* * *

 

After her first e-mail, the man sent her a quick answer, asking about the logistics, why she needed his company and a little about her family. That had been completely flooring. Was she really doing this?

She was.

She e-mailed him back a complete schedule of the usual Griffin Thanksgiving and pretty much a complete essay on her family history. She put some stuff in there she really should never say to a stranger like that. But Clarke didn’t expect to have such a _cathartic_ feeling while writing all those things. She sits and writes and writes, and it pours out of her, rushes from her fingers. Clarke forgets who will be in the receiving end of the longest e-mail she’s ever written in her life.

You know when you’re listening to a song, and there’s that moment of perfect alignment between the lyrics and the melody, and it’s as like your souls sours, and in that moment, you are more than just yourself?

Clarke feels like that.

Weirdly, she can’t think of anything else to describe the feeling as she types and types, all those feelings are not just hers. And to this faceless stranger, she confesses why she can’t face Wells. Why her mother doesn’t understand. What happened to her dad. And without needing a single drop of alcohol to do it, she hits send.

Fifteen minutes later, the Ad Man gets back to her, wanting to know at what time they are leaving on Wednesday.

 

* * *

 

Monty is driving her to the park downtown where she and _Bellamy Blake_ agreed to meet.

When she’d told him her plan, her friend nearly spit out his drink. He insisted he come with her to the meeting, to protect her from creepy guys who just want to murder pretty, unassuming blondes. Monty’s words, not hers.

“I just don’t see why you even needed to find a fake date to the wedding.” Monty let out a frustrated sigh, tapping his thumbs on the steering wheel. “I mean, who’s going to care if you go alone? You’re a surgeon, for Christ’s sake!”

“Monty,” Clarke pauses, mouth open. He doesn’t understand what it’s like between her and her mother. “Mother doesn’t understand why I can’t date Wells again. I just,” Clarke groans. “I don’t know Monty. Just trust me on this one, ok?”

“Ok.” Monty shrugs, eyebrows raised. At least he won’t bring it up again. “But if this guy gives me the creeps, we are out of here.”

Clarke laughs, shaking her head. “Whatever makes you happy, buddy.”

“Are you nervous?” He wiggles his eyebrows at her and Clarke laughs, so grateful for him coming along.

She shrugs, “Not really.”

“Seriously? Because I am.” Monty glances to his right and makes a quick turn, pulling into the parking lot and putting the car in park. “Aannnd, we’re here!”

Clarke looks at her reflection in the mirror, one final scrutinized assessment, nods to herself and steps out of the car, where she stands decidedly. She turns back to Monty and gestures for him, “Well?”

“Oh, I’m not going.” Monty takes off his seatbelt and leans back on his seat. “But make sure you sit outside the coffee shop, where I can see you, okay?”

Clarke rolls her eyes, “Why?”

“So I can see if you’re in trouble. And if you are, start tying your hair up, okay? How’s that for a code?” Monty motions with his hands at the top of his head, and Clarke’s tempted to just laugh and forget the whole thing, just have her friend take her away.

“DId it take you a whole lot of time to come up with that?”

“Not a lot of time…”

She chuckles, another surge of decision reaching her, “Yeah, right. I’m going now.” Clarke smoothes down her shirt, nods to herself again, and goes towards the cafe.

Clarke Griffin has never been one for blind dates. I mean, what is the point? What are the odds of her actually liking someone she has never seen before and, like today, knows next to nothing about? How could people do this sort of thing for _fun_?

She takes a seat at the table closest to the car, and turns to look at Monty, who sends her a thumbs up, while eating gummy bears. She has to roll her eyes at that. And when she turns herself back, her view of the street is blocked.

“Clarke Griffin?” Clarke pulls her gaze up to the man now standing in front of her. _Damn_.

 **1** \- Tattoo on the inside of his left arm, so either he’s not scared of permanent things or careless of his future.

 **2** \- Good appearance, definitely works out.

 **3** \- Stands confidently, directly in front of Clarke with no signs of embarrassment.

 **4** \- Clean shirt, a little tight on his chest, nice jeans and not too beat up shoes.

 **5** \- Deep, unwavering voice.

 **6** \- Freckles. Really cute freckles. Spotless skin.

 **7** \- One hell of a smile when she nods in response.

 “Bellamy Blake?”

He nods and takes the empty seat in front of her.

“You look better than I expected,” the man eyes all he can see of her from where he sits and smirks.

She could answer ‘ _You don’t look too bad yourself’_ , as the cliché of the romantic-comedy genre demands, but Clarke merely clicks her tongue, and uses her professional tone, “Ready to go through our game plan?”

It is indeed a blessing that the man doesn’t look bad _at all_ , to be honest. If he didn’t look at least presentable, Clarke would never take him to meet her mother. She wasn’t _that crazy._ She at least needs to make her mother think she has it the “ideal” life for a little while. But this Bellamy Blake? Tall, fit, brown skin, plump lips and those freckles? She could have done a lot worse.

“Sure,” he smiles. “Tell me what you got.”

Clarke smiles briefly, pulling out her phone. She’s nothing if not organized. “Well, the wedding is the Saturday after Thanksgiving, but weddings are no small deal in my family. We should drive up the day before Thanksgiving and we would have to stay until, at the earliest, Sunday afternoon. It’s in Palo Alto, so a two hour drive. I was thinking we could just drive. I’m fine driving or covering the cost of gas, whichever you prefer. Now, when we get there, you’ll meet my mother first. You need to make a good initial impression, so nice clothes and hair. The like. After that, you’ll meet Raven, most likely-”

Bellamy cuts in. “This is a wedding, not West Point. I don’t think it has to be this complicated.”

Clarke sighs. “You don’t know my family. It’s best to be prepared for the worst. Look, if you don’t want to do this-”

“Woah, woah.” Bellamy sits up in his seat, leaning forward onto the table. “I never said that. I tend to think on my feet. You don’t need to tell me every move I need to make. Just tell me what’s most important.”

Clarke breathes in. His eyes are set on her,  and she has to close her own. Where would she even begin? “Well, my mother is the most important person. She’s been trying to set me up with my ex ever since we broke up, and I really, _really_ cannot get back together with him.” Her eyes flicker back up to his. She’d told him everything about Wells, but his face doesn’t change when she brings him up.  
“Should I propose to you?” When Bellamy asks that, Clarke has to take a deep breath. He’s acting nonchalant and calm about this whole thing. _Proposing?_ What would her mom even think? What is Clarke even thinking? _Marriage?_

“I…” Clarke gapes, looking more intently into Bellamy’s eyes. He looks perfectly content. There’s no assumption in him. No judgement. Just a simple question. “Can we figure that out later? Actually, can we talk about you for a moment? I’m having a hard time thinking about the weekend right now.”

“Depends.” Bellamy shrugs. “What do you want to know?”

Clarke twists her thumbs together, not quite meeting Bellamy’s eyes as she says, “So, I hope you don't mind, but I looked up your criminal record.”

He purses his lips, nodding his head. “That's fair. Smart. What did you find?”

“Well, it says you beat a man nearly half to death.” Clarke does her best to hold his gaze as she finds the right words. “I guess, well, I need to know. I just need to know why?”

“He was a very bad man who nearly did a very bad thing to someone very important to me. But I stopped him before he could.” The way Bellamy says it lets Clarke know that’s all she’s going to get about the _why_ for now. So, she respects that.

“And you've never done anything like that since?”

“Nope.”

“And you're not going to?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Clarke looks at every bit of his face, scrutinizing him for any sign of deceit. “You do understand that I need you to be honest?”

He keeps his eyes locked on hers, firm. “I know you do. And I am being honest.”

She sustains the eye contact, looking back just as intensely. “So, do you regret it?”

“Hurting him? No. I regret losing control in the first place.”

“Good,” Clarke nods. “Yes. Now we can put that behind us.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.” At that, Bellamy leans back in his seat and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. It’s been in the works for a while. Hopefully, we’ll be able to post the next chapter in about a week. Thank you for reading our story!  
> Sarah


	2. Mother, I'm Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke takes Bellamy home to meet her family, and (hopefully) make them all believe they are a happy couple.

“That’s your car?” Clarke asks, incredulously.

For a moment the man just eyes her, “Yes. I put it in the ad, remember?” Bellamy looks about ready to fight her on this.

“I thought it was a joke, and this is a truck, not a van,” Clarke stands impassive, as she stares at what could be a Jackson Pollock painting in car form. Bellamy’s jaw slacks slightly.

“Semantics,” he grumbles.

“If you insist.” Clarke sighs and waits, looking up at Bellamy when he does nothing. “Well?” She gestures towards the trunk, and Bellamy fumbles to open it so she can put her luggage in there.

He sets his jaw and waits to open the passenger door for her, “What’s wrong with my car?” 

“Nothing. It’s just a little silly is all.“ Clarke shrugs, while she takes her seat, as if she hasn’t just insulted him.

“I’ll have you know that this car drives perfectly well, and has served me for a good ten years.” He slides into the driver’s seat and slams the door shut. “I’ve never had any complaints before.”

“Did you ever pick up any of your clients with it?”

“No.” Bellamy locks his jaw and Clarke resigns herself.

When he turns the key, the car sounds like it’s dying. Bellamy has to turn the key three times, but eventually the engine revs and then starts to idle. He turns to her and beams, and Clarke can’t help but laugh. She shakes her head and smiles. It’s going to be an interesting vacation.

 

* * *

  

Clarke stopped fidgeting with the strands of her hair long enough to look at Bellamy out of the corner of her eye, which turned out not to be such a good idea, when she caught him doing the same thing and they both felt pretty unsettled.

You would expect that a two hour drive from Sacramento to Palo Alto would be perfect to do some talking, break the ice and get to know each other, but Clarke had already managed to sleep through more than half of the trip, and waking up to Bellamy’s questioning look hadn’t been exactly reassuring.

It had taken them the rest of yesterday to work things out, and then Clarke honestly couldn’t understand how she found in herself the guts to take a complete stranger to her family home, and in such crazy short notice, just like that. But Bellamy Blake swears he can be devastatingly convincing when he wants to. After all, he has done this before.

“So…” They both started at the same time, and stopped awkwardly.

“I was wondering when you would stop being so quiet.” Bellamy chuckled, never taking his eyes out of the road.

“You were awfully quiet too.” She chirped.

“Well, you were sleeping and I’ve been driving, focused on it and all.”

“Can’t you multitask?”

Another chuckle, “I certainly can.”

“Well, I can drive the rest of the way if you want to.”

A shrug, “Nah, it’s fine.”

“Are you one of those guys that won’t let anyone else drive their car?”

Bellamy’s brow furrows and he gives her a sideways glance, “I’ll admit that the thought of you driving this car isn’t exactly appealing to me, even though I’m sure you’d be perfectly capable of doing it. But anyway, I said I’d drive us there, so I’m driving us there.”

“Huh.” What could Clarke answer to that? It suddenly feels completely absurd, this whole trip. It is completely out of character for her.

Then Clarke feels utterly awkward. The air feels thin, and her heart starts racing. Should she be doing this? Should she lie? Isn’t it better to avoid going home completely? Surely Fox would understand, with Clarke being a busy surgeon and…

“You like Zeppelin?” Clarke’s line of thought is broken when Bellamy turns up the volume to an upbeat song that starts on the radio.

It’s like a ton has been lifted from her chest, and she smiles at the song playing. “D’yer Mak’er is like that one joke none of your friends get and you have to keep defending yourself about it through the years.”

“Yeah,” Bellamy smiles, and it’s like his face transforms completely, to someone open and warm. “I’ve been saying that for years!”

 _Everything is going to be fine_ , Clarke thinks, and releases the breath she’d been holding. He’ll know what to do, “So, Blake,tell me something about yourself. It seems unfair for you to already know so much about me, whilst you’re still a total stranger to me.”

He side eyes her. Assessing? Wondering what type of crazy person sends a mile long email telling all of her life story? 

“I’m the biggest Led Zeppelin fan.”

“Eddie Van Halen wouldn’t like to hear that, would he?”

He outright laughs, “I got the car like this, I won it in a bet.”

“A bet? That sounds unlikely.”

“It’s a long story.”  
“And we still have a long way to go.” She pushes.

“Not really, we’re almost there. Maybe someday I’ll tell you.” Bellamy sounds cryptic and at ease, the opposite of Clarke, who chews on her thumb, wrecking her mind to find another question.

“Uh, so, do you like french toast?”

“Sure.”

“Good, that’s usually our breakfast. And lots of fruit; mother makes us eat fruit. What’s your favorite fruit?”

He eyes her again, and Clarke takes a note on his habit of doing that. “Why are you nervous? I already told you. I’m not going to bite.”

“No, it’s not you.” Surprisingly enough, it _really_ isn’t him. “It’s just that we don’t really have long to go.”

“Listen, I promise I won’t screw this up, ok? I’ll stick to the script, dodge your stepsister’s questions as much as I can, smile to your mother a lot and punch whoever you want me to. It’ll be fine, I’ve done this before, remember?”

Clarke sighs exasperatedly, ”Yes, but you’ve never been to a Griffin family gathering.” She’s also not sure if knowing that Bellamy used to be an escort is reassuring or even more terrifying, he’s one of those men so handsome, it’s scary.

“True… Want to go over the plan again?”

Clarke could get suspicious to why he was even helping, for free! Why someone like him would want to do what he was doing. But she simply sighed, “Yes, but let’s stop for coffee somewhere, we could use the boost.”

 

* * *

 

 

“I’ll only be a sec,” Clarke ponders whether she should take her bag with her or not. In a surge of trust, she only takes her necessities and leaves for the bathroom. She feels Bellamy eyes following her all the way, as he waits for their coffee.

Once inside the bathroom, she takes a deep breath and rests her hands against the edge of the sink, letting her head fall slightly. She’s nearly home, and she’s bringing home an ex-convict, ex-escort along, a man even _she_ barely knows. She breathes in and out, trying to calm her racing heart. This whole thing is preposterous. Of course she did something like this to get out of dealing with her mother and Wells.

A knock on the door shocks her. “Hey, you ok?” It’s Bellamy. She glances down at her watch. It’s been seven minutes, and she hasn’t even brushed her teeth or peed.

“Yeah, sorry.” She calls through the door. “I’ll be out in a few minutes. Promise.” She rubs her forehead when she hears his muffled reply and retreating footsteps. She grabs her toothbrush and starts brushing. The woman that looks back at her from the bathroom looks tired and anxious. Should she change her clothes? She’s wearing jeans, a white buttoned shirt, a brown leather jacket and slippers. Clarke braids her hair and puts on some chapstick. She looks put together, and that’s what matters, right?

Clarke opens the bathroom door with a paper towel and disposes of it before going back to the car, where Bellamy leans with two coffees in hand. He smiles when she rounds the front of the car. “I got you a black coffee. I figured that you surgeons are purists.”

“You figured correctly.” She grins and takes a much needed sip of the caffeine-infused delight. She gasps. “I was going to pay for it!”

“Don’t worry. I got it.” Bellamy nods his head and takes a sip of his coffee.

“No, I told you everything would be covered. It’s part of our agreement. Food is included.” Clarke can feel herself getting flustered. A coffee shouldn’t be a big deal, but she promised she’d pay for everything. She keeps to her contracts.

“Honestly, Clarke, it’s really not a big deal.” Bellamy shrugs and stands up straight. “Now we just have to get gas and we’ll be out of here.”

She blinks a couple of times at the way he says her name. It rolls off his tongue naturally, intimately, as if they have indeed been dating for five months (as their planned backstory commands).

“At least let me pay for that.” Clarke snaps outof her reverie, and opens the car’s door, reaching across the driver’s seat to grab her wallet out of her purse. “I’m not going to let you cover gas, especially since you’re driving.”

Bellamy sighs, hands on his hips. “Clarke, I can cover the cost of gas for my own car. Put your wallet away.”  
“No.” Clarke mirrors his stance, and stands resolutely. “Part of our contract was that all of your expenses would be covered in exchange for you helping me this weekend. Gas is an expense. I am paying, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

They stand across from each other, neither losing the other’s gaze. Clarke starts to worry that this argument is going to end up with him leaving her to go to her mother’s house alone this Thanksgiving, but then Bellamy lets out a frustrated sigh. He puts his hands in the air and walks around the car to open the gas tank cover. He looks back at Clarke and points to the pump. “Well?” Clarke breaks out into a grin and walks over excitedly. Bellamy laughs. “Are you always such a dork?”

“I’m just a happy person.” Clarke swipes her card and lets Bellamy put the pump in the car. One potentially contract-ending argument avoided. An unknown amount left to go.

 

* * *

 

 

Bellamy’s car stutters to a stop in front of the Griffin’s family home. He pulls on the parking brake and gasps when he really looked at the house. “You live here?”

Clarke smiles, brushing imaginary dust off her pants. “Used to. I moved out when I went to college.” She glances at the house again. This is the house where her father would twirl her around after she ran down the stairs on Christmas morning. This is where she and Wells first kissed on her bed, only to jump apart when her father knocked to tell her dinner was ready. This house is where, after her father got into the accident,she screamed at windows and doors and walls begging to know why they took only _him_. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been back.” She looks back at Bellamy, taking a big breath and smiling. “You ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” He gets out and struggles with the passenger door for a while until it pops open. With a grand smile, he holds out his hand for her to take. He helps her out, takes their bags in his right hand, and reaches for Clarke with his left hand. They walk to the front door with their fingers intertwined.

“You have nothing to worry about. We’ve got this. I told you everything you need to know.” Clarke takes a deep breath, looking at Bellamy in her peripheral. His hand feels weird in hers, his fingers are too big, too foreign. He’s got a smirk on his face, and Clarke wants to tell him he can’t smirk when he meets her mother.

“Don’t worry. We’re fine.” Bellamy knocks on the door and goes right back to hold her hand, “I have a way with people.” He blinks one eye at her, slyly, and in exactly seven seconds, the door opens.

Abby smiles when she sees Clarke, and lets it fall when her eyes settle on Bellamy.

“Mother, this is Bellamy.” Abby raises her eyebrows at Clarke’s words. “Blake.”

“Mrs. Griffin.” Bellamy nods somberly, as the matriarch eyes him from the tips of his slicked back hair to his toes.

 

1 - His voice is deep and unwavering, he looks right at her.

2 - He stands confidently, but respectfully. 

3 - He is well dressed, in dark jeans, a black shirt, and dress shoes. Flawless.

4 - His curly hair is combed back, but she can tell he needs a haircut. 

Abby clicks her tongue.

5 - For no reason that she can tell, a smile spreads across Bellamy Blake’s face, as if he knows what Abigail is doing. It is a very pleasent smile.

6 - He is very tall and muscular, very nice skin, so he must take good care of his health. 

7 - He lets go of the bags, and not her daughter’s hold, when he offers her his hand. 

Approved.

 

She scrunches her nose, then accepts his hand. “Call me Abigail.”

“Will do.”

Clarke lets go of the breath she’s been holding. She recognizes the proud bounce in her mother’s steps as she reenters the house. Bellamy was just approved on his First Impression. Her stomach churns, refusing to be relieved. But at least they started well.

The house is cool and smells like lunch is almost ready. Clarke’s vision is slightly blurred when her mom’s boyfriend comes into vision, with a great smile on his face, saying her name like it’s a laugh.

“Hey, Kane.” He hugs her lovingly. He smells like the sea and still has his shoes on. Clarke doesn’t understand why her mother keeps pretending that she hasn’t found love again, why Kane can’t just move in already.

“What do I have to do to have you start calling me Marcus?”

Clarke merely shrugs, “Meet Bellamy.”

“It’s good to finally meet you.” The older man smiles even more as he shakes Bellamy’s hand. “Though I wished I knew you existed for longer than two weeks!”

Bellamy laughs good-heartedly, “You know how Clarke is.” The blonde in question is a little taken aback. The way Bellamy said that actually sounded affectionate, almost in an adoring way. Kane is delighted.

“We all do.” Kane looks over Clarke’s shoulder and smiles. “Well, look who it is.”

Before Clarke can ever turn around, she’s pushed forward as arms wrap around her from behind. Clarke laughs loudly and turns around to hug Raven back.

“You haven’t been back for two years!” Raven says into her neck with a smile. “Such a dick move.” 

Clarke turns around and receives her mandatory punch in the arm, “I’ve been busy.” She sighs, squeezing the woman tight to her chest before letting her go.

Raven glances at Bellamy briefly then turns back to Clarke. “Yeah, I can see that.” Raven narrows her eyes at the giant man next to her friend, clicks her tongue and then offers a nod, “I’m the adopted one.”

“Pleasure to meet you.” Bellamy smiles, reaching out his hand. Raven takes it reluctantly, under the watch of Clarke’s growing anxiety.

“I’m going to need to make sure you are good enough for my girl, here. Ok?” Raven asks, smiling at Clarke’s horrified face.

“Sounds reasonable.” Bellamy wraps his arm around Clarke’s waist and grins like a child on his birthday. “I look forward to it.”

“Everyone, save yourselves!” A man comes barreling into the room, grabbing Raven around the waist and hiding behind her. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

A giggle precedes the little boy tripping over himself to catch up with his father, roaring and stomping his feet. He grabs tightly onto the man’s leg, pretending to bite him, when he reaches his parents. He just giggles more when his father drags his leg against the ground. “Raven, I think a little monster took over our son.”

“Oh, shut up, Wick.” She laughs, slapping him on the shoulder. She turns back to Clarke and her smile falls when she sees the woman’s face. “Are you ok?”

Clarke rubs her eyes and smiles. “Yeah, it’s just been such a long time. Kai looks so much older now. He’s walking, no, running!”

“You know better than anyone how much they grow when they’re this age.” She smiles gently, rubbing Clarke’s arm. “Here.” She walks over to her son and picks him up. “Look, Aunt Clarke is here!”

“Aunt Clarke!” Kai smiles, clapping his hands. Raven walks him over to her, and the little boy reaches out his hands. Clarke laughs and, after looking to Raven for permission, takes him into his arms.

“You probably don’t remember me, but I knew you when you were very young.”

“You’re mommy’s sister!” The boy giggles, grabbing at her shirt’s collar. “You’re in the pictures!” Clarke laughs, unable to contain the smile on her face. “Who’s that?” Kai whispers into her ear. Well, she might not define it as a whisper.

Clarke looks over to Bellamy, who has a slight smirk on his face. She still needs to tell him to be careful with smirking around her mother, but for now, Clarke just finds it endearing. “That man is Bellamy. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Kai has a quizzical look on his face. “What’s that?”

“Well,” Clarke looks at Bellamy furtively. “It means he is a really special friend.”

“Can I be one too?” Kai asks, amazed. Clarke tries to think of something to say as the others laugh. “Ma!” Kai struggles to get out of Clarke’s arms and then rushes to latch himself onto Abigail’s leg. “Can I have cookies?”

“Not now, honey.” The older woman pats the boy’s dark hair lovingly. “Clarke, I cleaned up your bedroom, you and Bellamy can go upstairs to freshen up, dinner will be served in an hour.”

“Sure mother, thank you.” Clarke nods toward Raven and her boys, plus Marcus, and Bellamy follows her upstairs, with their bags.

She reaches the door that proudly declares “Clarke’s Room, DO NOT ENTER!” in proud, pink cursive handwriting. Bellamy chuckles and mutters a “cute” before she pushes open the door.

Being an only child until around the age of 13, Clarke tended to get pampered. Which means that her bedroom is probably the size of a master bedroom. With the benefit of a private bathroom. Needless to say, Bellamy is a little impressed. “Jesus, this is bigger than my entire apartment!”

“We were well-off.” Clarke mutters, feeling more and more self-conscious as Bellamy sees more of the house.

Bellamy laughs when he places their bags on her bed. The same bed that currently wears a bright pink Powerpuff Girls comforter that she’d used excitedly as a kid and ironically as a teenager. And now embarrassingly as an adult.

"Cute."

"Not cute, kitsch.” Clarke rubs her face and groans. “I thought my mother had gotten rid of that bedspread years ago.”

“Oh, it’s definitely intentional.” Bellamy laughs, unzipping his small bag to start unpacking. “Who is going to have sex underneath Buttercup? With her attitude? Oh, no.”

Clarke looks at him for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. “Oh my goodness, thank you for that. I’m sorry. This is all just very uncomfortable for me right now.”

“That’s no problem.” He smiles briefly, walking by her to open one of the doors to her closet. “Can I use some hangars?”

“Of course.” She plops down on the bed and watches him hang up his suit. It’s a nice suit. She can’t help but think that he would look very, _very_ good in a suit.

Someone knocks on the door. "Clarke Cake," comes Kane's voice. "Dinner is served."

"I thought we had an hour?"

“You know your mother and time.” He calls, but his voice fades as he walks down the hall.

Bellamy turns toward Clarke and claps. “I guess we’re on again.”

“Yeah, guess so.” Clarke grimaces, but grabs Bellamy’s hand when he offers it to her. “We got this!” She whispers to him.

“You bet we do.” He chuckles, leading her down the hallway. They reach the dining room and find everyone already sitting down. As she expected, she’s seated to her mother’s right and Bellamy is to her left.

Abby smiles when she sees the two. “Please, sit down.” She turns to Marcus and smiles. “I was just telling Marcus that there’s so much I don’t know about Bellamy, which is ridiculous because he’s in a serious relationship with my daughter.”

Clarke chuckles nervously, brushing her hair out of her face. “Well, you know how busy I’ve been with the hospital. I hardly had time to have a relationship, let alone keep you updated about it.”

“Still, a mother should know about her daughter’s partner.” Abby sighs, turning toward Bellamy with a small smile. “So, tell me about yourself. I want to know everything.”

“Well, I think the most important thing you should know is that there are two very important women in my life. My sister, Octavia, who works a lawyer helping those who can’t help themselves.” He glances at Clarke with a soft smile. “And Clarke Griffin, who helps not only heal other people but also helps me become a better man.”

Clarke’s jaw nearly drops, but she contains herself at last second. She smiles fondly and squeezes Bellamy’s knee, a little too tight. But she must’ve squeezed a nerve, because the man grunts slightly, dragging everyone’s attention to her. Thinking on the spot, Clarke kisses Bellamy’s lips briefly, and he relaxes under the momentary touch, “He’s never this cheesy, sorry.” She looks around to see her mother beaming. Close call. But Raven has her eyes narrowed at her, as she cuts meat for her son.

The doorbell rings, startling Clarke.

“About time,” Abby mutters. “Excuse me.” She gets up to answer the door.

“If you keep being all stiff and jumpy,” Bellamy whispers into Clarke’s ear, and she forces a smile, looking at him as if he’s saying something cute. “We won’t fool anybody.”

“Not to worry, _dear._ ” She pushes some of his hair back and pinches his earlobe. “I’ll be more careful, follow my lead and don’t push things, okay?”

Bellamy nods and kisses the tip of her nose, their attention going to the door, as Abby re-enters the dining room with someone at her side.

“Jaha!” Clarke’s head shoots up at Kane’s exclamation. The man gets up to hug his long-time friend while Clarke’s shoulders tense and her lip twitches. She did not know about this. He was not supposed to be here tonight.

“Clarke?” Jaha smiles. “It’s been so long.” He walks around the table to give her a hug, which she returns begrudgingly. She puts a smile on her face all the same and tries to act happy.

“I know! Too long.” She nods her head and sits back down. “How is everything? How is Wells?”

“I’m good. The company’s doing well.” Thelonious smiles as he takes a seat and places a napkin on his lap. Reaching across the table, he doesn’t look at Clarke when he says, “Wells is good. He’s engaged.”

Clarke drops her fork, and the whole table turns their heads. She clears her throat, smiling briefly. “Sorry. But that’s great news. I’m really happy for him.”

She refuses to meet Bellamy’s concerned eyes. She doesn’t want his pity, so she’s not going to get it. Instead, she focuses on the delicious food on her plate and the warmth of Bellamy’s thigh next to hers. The dinner goes relatively smoothly, despite Wick’s inquiry about Bellamy’s occupation and her mother’s curiosity about Wells’s bright, new fiancé.

 

* * *

 

"Can you help me with the plates, Bell?" Clarke managed to keep up with the conversation, but the worry whenever Bellamy opened his mouth to answer someone is taking its strain. So she gets up and gestures for him to follow. Which he promptly does. 

"Oh, Clarke, honey, Marcus and I can do it."

"You already cooked Mom, it's ok."

"I'll make the coffee," Raven jumps up, her attention leaving Kai.

"You have your hands full, plus, you know I make better coffee." Clarke smiles and exits the dining room with half the plates and tableware. 

Bellamy follows her with the other half, "Are you alright?" He asks into her ear when they reach the kitchen. “Did you know?”

Clarke puts the plates on the counter and leans in it. “No, I didn’t know.” She stands still for a second, and Bellamy’s not sure what to do, but she then goes for the cabinet and puts water in the kettle.

All the while, Bellamy watches. “What do you want me to do?”

“You can start the dishes.”

“No, I meant,” He rubs the back of his head, awkwardly. “What do you want me to do when we run into that Walls person?”

“Wells.” She chuckles slightly.

He pretends that seeing Clarke smile doesn’t make him feel good about himself. “Seriously, what should I do? Be all territorial? Say he’s as dumb as a wall? Be all over you so he’s jealous?”

Clarke glances at the door furtively. “We’ll discuss this later, tomorrow, anytime but here and now.” She whispers.

Bellamy shrugs. “As you wish.”

When Raven enters the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded, the water is starting to boil as Bellamy washes the dishes while Clarke dries them. “Aren’t the two of you so domestic? When did that happen?”

“She keeps me on a tight leash.” Clarke slaps him. “See?” He chuckles. “But I like it.”

Clarke eyes the man by her side scoldingly. “What you want, Raven Bird?”

“You mother sent me to say that the desert is in the fridge, _Clarke Cake_. It’s your favorite, strawberry cake.”

“Thanks, we got it.”

Raven leaves, but not before watching for another moment, as Bellamy bumps his hips on Clarke’s and she shooes him away. 

The coffee is delicious and the is cake even better. More small talk is made, and finally, when Kai has already fallen asleep on his father's lap, everyone decides to call it a day, with Abigail and Marcus taking care of cleaning the rest of things.

Clarke follows Bellamy up the stairs with heavy footfalls, and closes the door behind them with finality.

“That was a nightmare.” Clarke huffs, throwing herself into her old bed. “I was so sure mother was going to call us off at any second.”

“I think I did great.” Bellamy smirks, laying down beside her, clasping his hands behind his head. 

“Of course you think that.” Clarke mutters.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing. Tell me again how come you’re so good with people?”

“Told you, I was an escort for five years. On high demand, if I might add. But I guess people always liked me.” Clarke side-eyes him, and Bellamy is still smirking, his head turned to her. “Will I sleep here?”

“Of course.” She scrunches her eyebrows. “We're supposed to be a couple.”

“Ok... Can I take the right side, then?”

“Oh!" She sits up. “You meant the bed!” Bellamy tilts his head as she gets up and goes fretting into the closet. "We'll build a fort and it'll be fine!”

“A fort?”

“Yes. Well, not a fort, more like a wall, like the Wall of China.”

"You're building a Wall of China between us? Geez, hard to get just reached a whole new level right now."

Clarke goes further into the closet, so the man doesn't see her red cheeks. "You want a duvet? It's a little cold."

"Nah, a sheet will be fine."

When she turns around, arms full of sheets and a comforter for herself, she sees Bellamy turned away from her, removing his shirt. She sees his bare back. It’s... _doing things_ to her. “I can go to the bathroom.”

He turns around with a smirk and slightly pink cheeks. “Sorry, I usually sleep without a shirt. If that’s a problem, I can always wear one.”

“No, no, that’s fine.” Clarke puts the sheets on the bed and grabs some pajamas from her bag. “I’m just going to go change in the bathroom andget ready for bed. Let me know when you’re done changing.”

Before he can even respond, Clarke rushes into the bathroom and locks the door. She splashes her face with cold water a few times. “You can do this,” she insists to her reflection. She quickly brushes her teeth and changes into the matching blue pajama set Raven got her last Christmas.

Bellamy calls through the bathroom door, “I’m done in here.” Clarke unlocks the door and lets Bellamy into the bathroom to brush his teeth. She avoids staring at his chest as best as she can and gets into the bed. When Bellamy comes back out, she’s bundled under several layers of blankets and covers. “Nice to see you’re comfortable.”

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.” Clarke smiles and watches as he goes to turn off the lights. “Be careful coming back. Don’t trip and break your pretty face.”

The lights shut off and Bellamy’s voice travels through the dark room, “You think my face is pretty?”

“Oh, hush.” She laughs, tensing slightly when she feels Bellamy pull the covers aside and climb into the bed. “Thank you for helping me.”

“It’s not a problem.” Bellamy’s voice is soft. It all feels very intimate, whispering to each other in the dark. Pillow talk. “Sleep well, Clarke Cake.”

“Oh, god.” She groans as Bellamy laughs. “I hope that doesn’t catch on.”

“I’ll do my best.” His laughter starts to quiet. “Good night.”

“Good night.” Clarke says definitively, waiting to see if Bellamy has anything else to say. He doesn’t, and soon Clarke can hear soft snores coming from his side of the bed. She turns on her side and snuggles into her blankets. “Good night.”

At 3:07 in the morning, Bellamy shivers and starts pulling apart Clarke’s “Wall of China”. He crawls under Clarke’s covers, settling into the warmth. She startles slightly when she feels his freezing toes on her calves, but smiles nonetheless. She mumbles blurrily, “Told you it got cold at night.” He doesn’t respond, he’s not awake enough to answer, and quickly enough, they’re both asleep again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there, dearest reader  
> Me and Sarah took two days longer than promised to post this chapter, but maybe we made up for it with how longer it is than the first?  
> Let us know what you thought on the comments and with kudos, that's what keep us going. Also, make sure to subscribe to keep up with us!  
> Thank you for your time ♥  
> Carol


	3. Blessing's count

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank's giving is a time to remember all that's good in your live, to count our blessings maybe.  
> But sometimes the circumstances don't allow us to do that.

She’s so comfortable.

Clarke can’t remember the last time she felt this cozy. Maybe it’s her old bed and its homelike embrace; there’s a soothing weight around her middle and tangled in her legs. She can feel the cold air around the top of her head, but inside the covers it’s deliciously warm and comfy, so much so that she doesn’t want to move. Clarke lies very still, eyes closed, as her body slowly awakens, not used to sleeping in. As her senses kick in, she also becomes aware of some really good smells. There’s the clean sheets, the far away scent of french toast in the oven, and on top of everything, male cologne.

Male?

Clarke slowly opens her eyes and turns her head, coming face to face with Bellamy Blake, her nose inches away from his. Her breathing and heart rate immediately go out of control. No wonder she was so warm. Clarke now is extremely overheated, which is not a surprise, not when the man who has his bare torso glued to her back has approximately the heat output of a radiator.

 _It’s alright_ , Clarke thinks, _I’ll just squirm away very quietly and he won’t wake up._ So she, as gently as possible, holds Bellamy’s arm and starts lifting it.

He growls into her ear, “What time is it?” The arm in Clarke’s hold then proceeds to pull her closer, and the body quivers and yawns. Bellamy hums, burying his nose into her hair.

Clarke is frozen in place.

And as abruptly as he woke up, Bellamy lets go of her, turning around to the other side of the bed. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a grabber.” And he’s off to dream world again.

“It’s no problem.” Clarke says quickly, her voice an octave too high. “I’m just going to go get dressed.” With that, she rushes away to the bathroom, thunking her head against the door several times once she closes it. How can he be so nonchalant about the whole thing? He’d torn down her pillow wall in the middle of the night, which now that she thinks about, she remembers cuddling closer to him when he did. But it still doesn’t explain why he’s acting as if it all wasn’t so... _intimate_. Maybe it’s just because she hasn’t really been in a relationship for a few years. She hasn’t been held like that in so long that feeling it now just throws her off a tad.

Anyway, Clarke distracts herself with getting ready. She takes a quick shower, then spends a good fifteen minutes lathering herself with lavender-scented lotion. She brushes her teeth and washes her face. She cuddles into her big, fluffy robe from her eighteenth birthday.

When she steps out of the bathroom, Bellamy is still lying face down on her bed, spread eagle across most of it. She chuckles lightly. It’s extremely endearing. His hair is in disarray, and his limbs spread out awkwardly in many directions. “You ever planning on waking up?”

He lets out a huff. “I’m getting there.” But he just flips over and snuggles the large duvet closer to his chest. She can’t let herself get distracted so easily.

“Well, I’m going to go make coffee, so come down when you’re ready.” She smiles and nearly skips to the door. Before leaving, she turns back. “But if you’re not down in twenty minutes, I’m pulling you out of that bed.”

He mumbles something into his pillow, but Clarke figures he got the message.

 

* * *

 

Clarke is in the kitchen, making coffee, when she hears heels clicking closer and braces herself to what, or who, is coming.

“Please tell me that the hottie sleeping in your bed is your new bae!”

Clarke smiles tiredly, “Hey Fox, please tell me you knocked.”

“Of course I did. He opened the door and told me where to find you!” Her cousin squeals and embraces Clarke in her skinny arms, “Oh my God Clarke Cake, I missed you so so so much! You’ve been AWOL for what? Two years?”

“Sounds about right,” She answers through her cousin’s floral scented hair. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay!” Fox holds her at arm's length, looking her over. “Promise me you’ll be around more often, I so miss those little judgemental baby blues of yours.”

Clarke snorts, “I’ve been meaning to, I promise to try harder.”

Fox’s eye turn into slits. “You seem tense, why are you tense?”

And there it is, the first one to catch her in the lie. Fox looks at Clarke intently, and the blonde realizes she has to actually answer. “I’m not tense!” She forces a smile. “I’m just a little tired is all.”

“Oooooh,” Fox wiggles her eyebrows, her lips in a perfect O as she bumps her hip on Clarke’s. “Big boy making you sweat?”

You know those people that are so happy and oblivious, those people that giggle and clap, and you just sort of want to punch them in the face?

Clarke forces another smile, it’s easier this time. Fox seems perfectly satisfied with the non-answer. Well, if her cousin comes up with the lie herself, is it even a lie?

“Well, I promised Atom that I’d bring him a banana, so I’ll see you.” Fox smiles, pausing for a second before enveloping Clarke in her arms once more. “God, I missed you so much. We are definitely going to catch up during the bachelorette party. It’s going to be tons of fun.” Fox winks, grabs her banana, and then skips off.

Clarke sighs, turning back to making her coffee. Fox is a really sweet girl, truly. It’s just that she can be too much sometimes. She’s always on, you see. It can just be a little overwhelming. Which is ironic, considering Clarke’s job basically requires her to deal with highly stressful situations.

“I met the bride-to-be this morning.” Bellamy saunters into the kitchen, a smile plastered on his face. He dons a nice pair of dark jeans and a gray henley to match. He’s dressed fairly casually, but it’s still doing things to Clarke. What’s going to happen when he puts on a _suit?_

“Yes, she just told me.” Clarke smiles, handing him a mug of coffee before pouring her own. “I’m sorry about that. I’d wanted to let you sleep a bit more.”

“It’s no worries.” He mutters over his cup of coffee. “I was getting up anyway.” They stand in silence for a few minutes, taking occasional sips of steaming hot coffee, waiting patiently for it to cool down. “So, I just want to clarify something.”

“Of course.” Clarke methodically sets down her mug. “What is it?”

“Your cousin name’s Fox?” Clarke nods. “And she’s marrying Atom?” Another nod, albeit a slightly confused one. “And your stepsister is Raven.” Bellamy pauses for a second before smiling slightly. “Does everyone in Palo Alto have weird names?”

“Whatever you say, _Bellamy_.” Clarke smirks, shoving his shoulder lightly before grabbing her coffee and walking into the living room.

Bellamy follows her, chuckling lightly. “Touche, touche. Though, I will say that Bellamy is a popular French name.”

“Doesn’t make it any less unusual here in the states, Monsieur.” Clarke laughs, and they’re both laughing when they walk into the living room to find her mother and Marcus talking quietly on the couch. “Hello, Mom.” Clarke nods. “Kane.”

“Oh, Clarke, perfect.” Abby stands and walks over to the pair. “I’ll set the table for our breakfast.” Her smile is as bright as it can be.

“I’ll help.” Clarke glances at Bellamy, checking if he’s okay to stay with Kane. He gives her a smile and nods slightly. “C’mon.” Clarke says, turning back to her mother.

They head towards the kitchen and Clarke starts getting the coffee she made previously and milk, while Abby gets the french toast out of the oven.

“So,” Clarke starts, a smirk proud on her face. “I see Kane’s hair is wet. He spend the night again? Why doesn’t he just move in already?”

“Oh, hush.” Abby laughs, placing the tray on the countertop. “I’m an adult. You’re an adult. We don’t need to have a childish conversation.”

“Whatever you say.” Clarke laughs, shrugging. She puts the coffee and cream on the table before going to get plates and utensils.

“Marcus aside, how are you?” Abby asks, nonchalant as she gets maple syrup from the cabinet above the toaster oven. “I don’t see you for a year, and now you’re in a serious relationship with someone we never met?”

Clarke sighs lightly. She was expecting this conversation, just not on the second day. “Mom, you more than anyone know how busy my work schedule can get.” Her mother replies by putting the french toast on a rack on the table. “I’m sorry. I wish I could come down more often. I miss all of you. It’s just hard sometimes.” She takes a deep breath. “Without Dad and everything.”

“Oh, honey, I know.” Abby walks over to Clarke, resting an arm on her shoulder. “I miss him too.”

“I know I have to be ok with this at some point, it’s just that I…” She can’t.

“You have to move on too, honey.” And that was just the wrong thing for Abby to say.

Clarke tenses, “I will when I’m ready.”

“Clarke, it’s been almost two years, don’t you think you ought…”

“Let’s bring these to the living room.”

“Clarke, you can’t keep pushing us away.”

“You’re the one pushing me away.” Clarke grunts, before taking the tray and leaving for the living room.

Seeing Bellamy at ease with Marcus makes her even more anxious but also a little less worried. He’s playing his part wonderfully. He’s laughing when he notices her. The smile on his face falls slightly as he walks over to her. “Everything ok?”

“It’s fine.” Clarke smiles, and she means it. He _cares,_ and that’s enough for her right now. “Really. Thank you.”

“It all looks lovely.” Marcus smiles as he takes a seat next to the head of the table. Abby walks in a few moments later and gives Clarke a beseeching look.

Clarke goes to take her seat opposite Marcus and realizes that Bellamy's hand had been resting on the small of her back, a steady presence. So, she grabs his hand and pulls him to sit in the chair beside her. He chuckles lightly, and Clarke smiles.

Abby takes her rightful seat at the head of the table. The queen of the house. She risks a glance at Clarke and smiles when she doesn't see a scowl. Instead, Clarke is smiling brightly as Bellamy whispers something into her ear.

"So, Bellamy," Abby starts, resting her elbows on the table and clasping her hands together. "Marcus tells me you rather like history."

 

* * *

 

After the brunch, Clarke and Bellamy spend most of the day exploring. She takes him to see Stanford and he salivates when they step inside the library. She takes him to a small cafe she used to go to in her senior year of high school when she wanted to just leave for college already. Bellamy even manages to drag her to see the sculpture garden at lunch time and they sit on a bench and eat hot dogs.

"What are you thankful for today?" Bellamy asks in between bites.

"Today?" Clarke takes her time as she eats, she looks around, the sun, the people, the town she used to know so well. "Right now I'm thankful for this peaceful morning."

"Yeah." Bellamy nods. "Me too."

She has a good time. It’s weirdly liberating, how Bellamy has no expectations of her, how their relationship is nothing more than that. Somehow it feels honest.

When they get back to the house, it’s night, and Clarke and Bellamy find Wick blowing raspberries into Kai’s stomach. “Well, isn’t this a sight?”

“Oh, hush.” Raven laughs, walking over to the pair of them. “Kai’s always too energetic in the evenings. We need to keep him occupied.”

“Tell me about it.” Bellamy laughs, only elaborating more when he sees the confusion on Raven and Clarke’s faces. “I had to help take care of Octavia when she was just a baby, keep her smiling. She had lungs.”

“You’re welcome to help out!” Wick shouts from the floor. He’s currently lying beneath Kai as the little boy wrestles on his stomach.

“If you insist.” Bellamy laughs, walking over and lifting Kai when Wick offers his son. “Do you want to fly, Kai?” When the boy shakes his head enthusiastically, Bellamy lifts the boy over his head and starts jogging around the room. 

“He’s great.” Raven whispers into Clarke’s ear. The blonde woman blushes and nods her head in agreement, watching fondly as her nephew flies around the room in Bellamy’s arms.

She should have known this little moment of happiness wouldn’t have lasted too long. The front door opens slowly and a very familiar “Hello!” rings through the house. Clarke tenses her shoulders and Raven reaches her arm across them to rub Clarke’s back. “Don’t worry. It’ll be ok.”

Clarke nods her head and smiles, putting on her happy face.

“Clarke?” She turns to see Wells and a beautiful latina woman beside him, holding his hand. “I didn’t know you’d be coming down this year.”

“I only knew two weeks ago myself.” Clarke smiles, hoping everyone won’t notice how fake it is.

Wells smiles and turns to the woman next to him. “Uh, I want to introduce you all to Mel. She’s my fiance.” The woman smiles and nods to everyone, Clarke included. She seems nice. She looks a little bit frightened of everyone, but it’s probably because of the sour look on Clarke’s face that she can’t seem to take off. Still, the woman graciously talks to all the ones present, who evidently already knew, and stops before Clarke. The woman extends her hand to the blonde, her plump lips smiling and wavy hair glistening, she’s beautiful and she and Wells would make gorgeous ethnic diverse babies, “It’s great to finally meet you!” Her voice is cheerful, not Fox cheerful, but pleasant and polite. “Of course, everyone has talked so much about you already, that I feel that I already know you.”

Mel talks so sincerely that Clarke has to hold back a cringe, people talking about her? Totally cringe worthy. And also, Clarke damn well wishes she had known about the woman previously too, “Nice to make your acquaintance.” Clarke shakes Mel’s hand, and the whole thing looks just as painfully awkward as she feels. “This is Bellamy, my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Wells exclaims. “I didn’t know!” He and Bellamy shake hands, eyes locked on each other. “You are a lucky man.”

“I’m aware.” Bellamy sounds almost threatening and that’s when Abby decides to finally cut in.

“Who’s ready for dinner? Rumor is I outdid myself this year!”

“I’m sure you have.” Wells smiles, walking over when Abby extends her arms for a hug. When Clarke turns away, Bellamy puts his arms around her shoulders. She relaxes, wondering why someone she barely knows can calm her down when she’s surrounded by her _family._

Everyone follows Abby into the dining room and takes a seat at the large table. Clarke remembers the Thanksgiving dinners and Christmas breakfasts. Everyone would laugh and joke and her father and mother would sit at the heads of the table, smiling at each other. It’s completely different from now, where everyone knows about the tension between Wells and Clarke. No one is laughing loudly. Smiles aren’t spread around the table. It’s all polite chit chat to cover up the obvious elephant in the room.

But Clarke smiles. They say grace and she answers the questions about how she and Bellamy met, how her job is going. Clarke listens intently when Wells talks about his new job, smiles warmly when he kisses his fiancee on her cheek. The real problems set in when people start asking about why she’s been gone so long. Everyone misses her so dearly.

“It’s just been really busy at work.” Clarke smiles, polite and hopefully deflective. “I wish I could make it down more often, but my patients need me.”

“Oh, Clarke, it’s just that we haven’t seen you in so long,” a well- meaning uncle chimes in. “We know it’s been hard since your father passed, but we’re your family.”

“I know.” Clarke keeps her smile on her face so she doesn’t show the hurt from the incisive words. “I was just needed at work.”.

“Oh Clarke," Her mother chimes in. "We all know you were the one to run off when things got too hard, it’s just what you do.” There’s a lightness to Abby’s tone; you can almost hear a laugh.

“When things got _too hard?_ ” Clarke whispers. Damn right things got too hard. Abigail threw herself into work, and when Wells came out of the hospital, Clarke didn’t know how to be around him anymore, she didn’t know where to find herself or her boyfriend anywhere she looked. They were gone, she was gone. Fox couldn’t handle any of it, it was like _grief_ wasn’t a concept she allowed herself. Even Raven, her best friend in the world, her _sister_ , she wasn’t around either, she was always gone. So Clarke looks around now, on this thanksgiving, and she doesn’t even notice the outsiders, the kid, she just sees the ones that weren't _there_ for her, the ones that still didn’t understand. “Excuse me.”

Bellamy watches the way Clarke politely folds her napkin, before leaving it on the table and graciously leaving room. If Clarke could read minds, she would know Bellamy thought she looked like royalty.

Bellamy abruptly gets up, remembering himself, “I’ll go talk to her.”

Clarke is sitting on the floor, the back of her head against the wall, as she looks outside the window, at the scrape of sky she could see between the branches of the tree next to the house. Unsure of how to proceed, Bellamy sits beside her, and looks out of the window too. A long moment passes. And it eats at him how he can’t think of anything to say. Nothing at all. So he starts paying better attention to his surroundings, the books on the shelves, the paintings on the wall.

“Did you paint all this?” Bellamy asks, his voice hoarse, quiet. And Clarke moves her eyes from the sky, redirecting them to the intricate design of waves painted on the four walls.

“Yeah, one afternoon.”

Bellamy furrows his brow and glances at Clarke, “Did you want to be a painter? Is that what you wanted to do?”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “No. It was always a hobby. I wouldn't ever want to do it as a career.” She touches the wall tentatively. “Can you imagine the stress?”

He lets out a bark of laughter. “Stress? You’re a surgeon!”

“So? I just tinker. I understand the bodies, it operates on action and reaction, all its bits have a duty; the human mind and its emotions are the true mystery, like the sea.”

“Mystery? I thought all doctors were skeptics, putting everything down to body chem.”

Clarke smiles. “Either that or extremely religious. With surgeons we either believe in God or think we are Him.”

Bellamy chuckles and shakes his head. “Which one are you? The latter?”

“Oh, no. I’ll take my chances with heaven.” She shrugs. “It isn’t that hard being good.”

Bellamy tilts his head, “It ain’t that hard being bad, either.”

Clarke eyes him wearily. Bellamy knows she wants to ask him a question, knows she’s dying to. But he admires her a little more when Clarke gets up and heads for the bathroom, in complete silence.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, we took a couple of months too long to post this, didn't we?  
> I'm really sorry! Mine and Sarah's classes begun at full speed and it became hard to write and coordinate our ideas.  
> But, at long last, here's the update, hope you enjoyed reading it!  
> Don't forget to comment and leave kudos if you liked it! The more pressure y'all put on us, the faster we'll write, hehe.
> 
> Lot's of love,  
> Carol


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